slept and painted this weekend, played purrs on cats and danced with dogs. i came home today and there was coffee, mint chip and cookies. there were dogs and music the hearthfire burning.
nels cline and the woman at the ford the woman at the ford. the fluorescent glare of work a million impalements the thick alien air for november i couldnt breathe my thoughts spit out in blinking gasps i said the word retarded a lot i felt like my father before the first drink.
"underneath the levee in the cattail thicket down in the shadows of a shady grove"
hen party wine around the world a turtle and the presley cat and im good blood and tattoos.
today at breakfast i breathed different air and she was beautiful.
sometimes i have nothing to say but i want to walk down the dark street with you laughing.